Archie and Marco exchange a look, and Marco nods. “She’s one of those girls who doesn’t realize she’s gorgeous.”
“I hate when she does this.” Archie sighs and takes me by the shoulders. “You, Rosie Wells, are beautiful. On the outside and the inside too. Any man would trip over his own two feet to get a smile from you, and it sounds like Adam’s done exactly that.”
“You had a baby,” Marco adds. “That doesn’t make you worth any less.”
“I’m not as thin as I used to be. And my scar—”
“Your scar is a badass badge of honor for having a life you created carved right out of you. And your stretch marks are tiger stripes, Rosie. You are strong. You are fierce. You are perfect, just the way you are.” Marco sweeps my bangs aside. “Don’t doubt that the right person won’t see that, because he will.”
“Comparing yourself to others won’t get you anywhere. It’s a useless way to spend your energy.” Archie taps my nose and winks. “And you need to reserve that, because it sounds like Adam might be able to go all night.”
I slap his hand away. “It doesn’t matter, because I definitely can’t. I passed out in his truck on the way home from our date on Wednesday.”
Marco sighs wistfully. “There’s just something about a man who drives a truck.”
Archie’s brows pull down. “I drive a truck.”
Marco waves him off. “Please, Rosie. Wear the two-piece. The bottoms are high-waisted, they show off your curves, and Adam will be drooling.”
I nibble my lip as I examine the yellow suit with little white daisies. “You really think so?”
“I know so. Now let’s touch up those toenails.”
A touch-up becomes a complete redo, and Marco even adds daisies to match my bikini, something I don’t notice until I’m done, because I’m too engrossed with thoughts of Adam.
He was a dream with Connor on Thursday. I wasn’t surprised, I guess, but I was surprised he was so nonchalant about the news. The man didn’t even bat an eye, just got down to Connor’s level and introduced himself before taking my hand and pulling us to the park. I didn’t expect it to be so easy, but I’m ashamed that I’m still here, kind of…waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Fuck, I hope there’s not another shoe.
My phone pings as I check my hair for the hundredth time, and I scoop it up, eager to see if it’s Adam on his way over.
Brandon
u need to come get connor. something’s wrong with him.
My heart thuds a quick, anxious beat as I wait way too long for my son’s father to pick up the phone he texted me from just seconds ago.
“Are you on your way?” he grumbles in greeting, and my chest tightens at the sound of Connor’s cries in the background.
“What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
“I donno.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? You said something’s wrong. Is he sick?”
Brandon groans, like the conversation is exhausting him. “I don’t fucking know, Rosie. He’s just not right. He won’t stop crying.”
“Have you tried holding him?”
“He doesn’t wanna be held.”
“Did he eat lunch?”
“We had some Timbits.”
“Timbits aren’t—” I take a deep breath and let it go, reeling in my frustration. “He might be hungry still. Can you make him a sandwich? Cut up some fruit for him?”
“He’s not fucking hungry, Rosie, he’s just miserable. I need you to come get him; he’s driving me nuts.”
“Please don’t say things like that in front of him.”
“He’s a baby. He doesn’t know what I’m saying.” Brandon sighs. “Look, are you coming or not?”
“I’m coming,” I mumble, grabbing the folded stroller from the front closet, slipping quietly out the door before Archie and Marco can catch me and force me to put my foot down, to remind Brandon that he’s supposed to have Connor until tomorrow evening, that he needs to step up and be a parent.
Instead, I type out a message I don’t want to send.
Me
I’m so sorry, Adam. I have to cancel today. I hope we can reschedule.
The second I step out of the elevator, my phone rings. Adam’s name lights my screen, and I steel my spine before I answer it.
“Hey, you.”
“Hey, trouble. Everything okay?” There’s a gentleness to his voice, one that’s always there, even when his flirty side flies free.
“Yeah, totally.” I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, before pushing through the front doors into the warm breeze. “No, not really. I don’t know. Connor’s having a rough day, I guess. His dad wants me to come get him.”
“I’m sorry he’s struggling today.” He pauses a moment. “Does he like to swim?”
“You want me to…to bring him?”
“I want to spend the rest of the day with both of you. Is that okay?”
“No. I mean, yes. Yes, of course it’s okay. It’s just…no one’s ever…I…”
“Are you going to get him now?” Adam asks, taking away the pressure to give my spiraling thoughts a voice. “Do you need a ride?”
“Brandon’s only a ten-minute walk away.”
“Okay, well, I can pick you and Connor up in about a half hour if you want to go home and grab his swimsuit and whatever else you need.”
“No, I can’t…I mean, I don’t have a car seat for him. We walk or bus everywhere.” I sigh, rubbing my eyes. This doesn’t feel like it’s going to work. “And he needs a nap, so I’d have to bring his playpen, but he might not sleep well in a different environment, and it just…I don’t know, Adam. Maybe today isn’t a good day.”
“Hey.” His quiet, patient voice stills my racing thoughts. “I’ve got a playpen for when my friend’s daughter is over. Connor can lie down here if you’re comfortable with that. I know you like routine, so if you aren’t ready to change things, I understand. But I would love to see you two, so if you want to give this a try for a day, just know that I’m here.”
My feet stop moving, and I ground myself in the moment. I feel the smooth, fake leather of the stroller handle in my fist, the hot sunshine on my cheeks, the warm breeze brushing through my hair. I see the way my dress sways gently, hear Adam’s patient, soft breath in my ear as he waits.
“Okay,” I finally say.
“Okay?”
“We’ll come. We’ll try it.” There’s a whoosh of breath on the other side of the phone, and I smile at his relief. My own relief comes at his next words, the excitement that bleeds through so vividly.
“Fuck yeah, Rosie!”
He’s exactly where I expected him to be. Both of them are, actually.
I storm by Brandon, sitting on his couch with his feet up on his coffee table, tipping a beer back while he watches baseball, and I scoop Connor out of the playpen he’s reaching for me from, crying and screaming.